


Sing Me A Song

by Delusional_Lunatic_3791



Category: Strange Magic (2015), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (sorry guys), Bëor is a bit of a grump, Crossover—The Silmarillion and Strange Magic, F/F, F/M, Featuring old choir songs and my own poetry, Finrod is a blessing, I couldn't resist, In which everyone is singing songs, M/M, Someone stop me, as always, but still, he has every right to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-27 10:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delusional_Lunatic_3791/pseuds/Delusional_Lunatic_3791
Summary: Two kingdoms, divided. One love potion changed everything. Now the prince is missing, a narcissist is scheming, and everyone is falling in love. And, as usual, everything is Túrin's fault.





	1. Where Our Story Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I have other stories waiting, can someone explain to me why I'm writing more? I don't even know what I'm doing. I have half-finished drafts, but I keep slipping from one to the other. Ugh. Anyway, have a combo of one of my favorite pairings and one of my favorite movies.

Once upon a time, there were two kingdoms.

Both were vast, and each covered half of Eä. Both were the home to immortal creatures. But they were as different as night and day.

One kingdom was known as Aman and was the brightest, most beautiful place on Eä. There lived the wise elves, graceful creatures who relished in singing songs of joy and laughter. The Valar who watched over Aman were fair and just, and the land prospered.

The other kingdom was called Middle Earth, and while it wasn't dark and dank, its outer appearance was far lesser than that of Aman. But there were strange mysteries hidden in this land, ones that could enchant even the most stubborn fellow. Middle Earth was home to men, who were less wise and less graceful, but strong and resourceful. Their songs were of hard toil and weariness. For the Vala who dominated Middle Earth was selfish and cruel and delighted in watching men suffer.

On the border between the two kingdoms grew a unique plant—athelas. This flower was the critical ingredient to a love potion. Many sought the athelas, for they desired this love potion greatly.

After all, doesn't everyone deserve to be loved?


	2. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding bells are ringing on the day Amarië and Finrod are to be joined in holy matrimone. At least, that's what's supposed to happen…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know this was supposed to be out a month ago. But on the bright side, I'm passing all of my classes, so that's something. Anyway, here you go. Enjoy.

A small daisy petal floated to the ground, barely resting for a moment before being snatched up by a greedy hand.

"Perfect," Finrod sighed, gazing at the petal lovingly before sticking it into the small corsage he held in one hand. "Daisy petals are her favorites! She'll love that!"

Bumblebees buzzed around the field, floating lazily from one flower to the other. Finrod smiled at them, letting one land on his finger. "Hello, little one," he cooed. "Are you enjoying your day?"

The bumblebee brushed against Finrod's finger before flying off to join its siblings.

Finrod laughed, letting the wind tousle his long golden hair. Oh, he was so happy to be alive today!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the perfect glittery pebble. It would go perfectly with the corsage! Finrod ran for it, bending down to scoop it up.

"Oh!" he gasped as he stumbled over a loose stone. The resulting cascade of pebbles swept the glittery one out of sight.

"Goodness," Finrod grumbled. "Silly Finrod…"

Keeping his eyes peeled for anything sparkly, Finrod moved on, unaware of the ever-darkening branches looming over him.

As he walked, Finrod unconsciously hummed snippets of one of his favorite songs:

 

As clearly as the water

On a day when all is still

My gaze sees all the farther

At the whim of my own will

 

And when the clouds come rolling in

To cover up the sky

I cry out at this horrid sin

Forbidding sweet things to fly

 

"Aha!" Finrod cried. He'd spotted the pebble! Bending down, he plucked it from the ground, pressing it right in the middle of the corsage. "Now it's perfect!"

He stood up—and yelped as he hit his head on a branch.

Finrod frowned, rubbing his head. The branches in Aman weren't this low. And they were always wrapped in emerald moss so that they wouldn't hurt anyone's heads. The fact that this had hit him was just weird.

Looking up, Finrod saw that the branches were dark and jagged and the leaves were dull. The sky was gray, so unlike its usual sapphire hue. And those flowers—

Wait. Those flowers—

Beautiful white blooms with a thin pine green stem all gathered in a bunch.

Athelas.

Which meant that he was somewhere he shouldn't be.

_Crunch._

Finrod jumped, whirling around to see—

A creature was staring at him. It was hunched over, clutching a clump of athelas in its meaty hands. Thick hair covered most of its face, and its body was full, so unlike the thin figure of an elf.

"An edain!" Finrod gasped.

The edain bolted up, a snarl splitting his face. "What are you doing here?"

"N-Nothing, I swear!" Finrod whimpered, backing away, clutching the corsage to his chest.

"Get out!" the edain roared. "Get out right now!"

"Okay, I'm sorry!" Finrod wailed. Turning tail, he ran away from the furious edain as fast as he possibly could and back into the comforting forest of Aman.

Behind him, thunder crackled.

◊◊◊

"Go fish," Tuor said, waving his hand of cards in a fanning motion.

"Damn," Beren muttered, drawing a card from the deck. "I swear you had that card!"

"Well I don't, so move on," Tuor told him. "You got any threes—?"

"Beren! Beren, Tuor!"

A man came running up to them, panting.

"What is it, Bren?" Beren asked. "We're in the middle of a game!"

"An elf came into the forest!" Bren reported, looking anxious. "I think he was trying to take some athelas!"

"Shit," Tuor swore. "The boss isn't going to be happy about this!"

"We'd better tell him," Beren said, standing and tossing his cards aside. "Come on!"

"Race you," Tuor challenged, and the two men bolted off in the direction of Balan's castle.

◊◊◊

"Majesty!" Tuor panted as he skidded into the throne room. "News from the border!"

He elbowed Beren. "You tell him."

"What? Why?" Beren squawked.

"I'm not doing it!" Tuor retorted. He wasn't suicidal, thank you!

"Fine." Beren turned to the wooden throne where Balan, high king of the three houses of men, lounged, looking irritated and intrigued. "An elf came into the forest—we think he was trying to take the athelas!" Beren reported quickly, wincing as his king and ancestor's gaze went from irritated to furious.

"Athelas," Balan cursed. "Morgoth, I hate this time of year—spring. Get more men on the border. Cut and burn all of the athelas!"

Balan stood up. "If there are no athelas, then there's no potion. And if there's no potion, there's no love. Because this love," he told his subordinates, "is a weakness. It destroys common sense, takes you, prisoner, breaks your heart in ways that will wreck you for all time."

Tuor and Beren stood there, gaping at their king. Gosh, Tuor thought. He's dead serious, isn't he?

"Well?" Balan thundered. "Destroy the athelas before I destroy you!"

That was enough for Tuor. He and Beren sprinted out of the throne room, each going in a different direction to carry out their king's orders.

Tuor ran through the list of guards for the border. He'd have to inform them of the new orders—

"Ho, Tuor!"

Tuor yelped and screeched to a half, coming face-to-face with a petite brown-haired girl. "Ah, Lady Andreth!" Tuor said nervously. "Can I help you?"

"I need your help. You know how my great-uncle is making everyone miserable with his ban on love?" Andreth asked, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear.

"Not really," Tuor tried. It honestly hadn't affected him that much.

"Wouldn't you like to see love return to Middle Earth?" Andreth smiled as she said it, as though it was the greatest thing ever.

"Uh, I guess not?" Again, it hadn't affected Tuor that much. Why should he care?

"Well, I've found someone who's perfect for—hey! I told you to go and hide!" Andreth snapped, pointing at someone out of sight in the shadows. Tuor took the chance and bolted past Andreth, rolling his eyes when he heard her smack her head in the background.

She really ought to stop trying, Tuor thought. It's never going to work.

◊◊◊

Finrod ran and ran until he couldn't run anymore. Slumping over, he panted and wheezed, clutching the corsage to his chest.

"Tra la la, make merry, tra la la, never tarry, tra la la…"

Looking up at the familiar singing, Finrod felt his heart soar. "Amarië! Thank heavens!"

From a distance away, Amarië waved. "Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for our wedding?"

"Of course I am, and I will! But first, I have something for you!" Finrod began to run forward—

Wait, wait, wait!

Finrod closed his eyes and automatically stumbled over a rock, falling forward and face-planting into the soft grass and spongy earth.

"Finrod!" Amarië cried. Finrod felt her gentle hands rest on his back. "What on Aman did you close your eyes for?"

"I can't look at you!" Finrod said. "It's bad luck on our wedding day!"

"Oh, Finrod," Amarië sighed in exasperation. "Are you serious?"

Finrod pushed himself to sit back on his haunches and nodded, his eyes still squeezed shut.

"Oh well." Amarië's fingers began to card through his hair. "It's a pity you can't see me. My hair's doing that thing we both love—by Manwë!"

Finrod winced as Amarië pulled something out of his hair. "What is this? We don't grow this type of plant here! This only grows in the—wait a minute. Were you in Ennor?"

"Uhm…maybe?" Finrod tried nervously.

"You could have been killed! Or worse, seriously disfigured!"

"Hey, I can take care of myself!" Finrod cried, standing up unsteadily.

"Even so, that's still no place for a prince!" Amarië pointed out, joining him on her feet.

"Oh, please! What about a prince who can do this?" Finrod opened his mouth and sang three beautiful notes. Though he couldn't see it, Finrod knew the flowers around the two were growing and blooming like crazy.

"Yep," Amarië said, patiently, like she was speaking to a small child. "Who's the big boy when he sings a song? But seriously, cut it out, I can't see over the sunflowers."

"Okay." Finrod whistled, and the flowers receded. "But I don't need a song to help me. Because I'll march right into Ennor and talk to the edain so that we don't have to be scared anymore. And we can go anywhere to see things, to have adventures!"

"I'll be your adventure," Amarië cooed, taking his hand. "Come, my future king."

"Aw, my future queen," Finrod sighed. He felt butterflies erupt in his stomach at the thought.

"Yes. I'll be queen! I can command whoever I want, and they'll have to listen!" Amarië giggled.

"Yes," Finrod agreed—wait, what? "What was that?"

"Ah, to make their lives better!" Amarië said hastily. "And yours, my love."

Finrod hummed, though he still felt confused.

"Now," Amarië said brusquely. "Go get yourself all gussied up. Today must be perfect. I have to go get ready. See you soon, my love!"

Finrod waited until he was sure Amarië was gone before opening his eyes.

Smiling, he flopped back onto the ground, cushioned by the soft grass and surrounded by wildflowers. He was getting married today. He was getting married to the love of his life, and they would be together forever. It was practically a dream come true.

"Uncle! Uncle!" A thin face appeared in Finrod's line of vision, wheat blonde hair falling into his eyes.

Finrod's smile grew. "Well, if it isn't my favorite nephew! Hello, Arto! How are you?"

"How am I? Uncle, are you forgetting the wedding?" Arto squawked. "You have to get ready!"

"I know, I know," Finrod said lazily. "But we still have time. Relax, Arto! Sit down!"

"Absolutely not!" Arto grabbed Finrod's hands and yanked him to his feet. "You have to go get ready! And—oh, good heavens, Uncle, what is that?"

Finrod looked down at the corsage in his hands. It was a woven daisy chain with more daisy petals sticking out from the sides. In the center was a large daisy with the sparkling stone stuck in the center.

"It's a corsage," Finrod told his nephew. "Obviously. Oh! I forgot to give this to Amarië!"

"You can't give her that!" Arto protested.

Finrod felt confused again. "Why not?"

"Um, she's too beautiful?" Arto pointed out.

"Oh, yes, she certainly is," Finrod sighed, gazing lovingly at the corsage—just as Arto snatched it out of his hands.

"I'll fix that."

"Thank you, Arto," Finrod said absently. Then, a thought occurred to him. "Arto?"

Arto's fingers were flying over the corsage. "Hmm?"

"Do you think that…that Amarië loves me as much as I love her?" Finrod asked, worried.

"Of course she does," Arto assured. "How could she not? You're very lovable, Uncle."

"Really?" Finrod still felt unsure.

"I wish you could see how you look." Arto held out his hands. "Here you go."

The corsage was a million times better. There were three green bracelets with daisies dotting them intermittently. A cluster of the largest daisies served as the top, the stone broken into smaller pieces and resting in each of their centers.

"It's perfect!" Finrod cried, gazing at his nephew's handiwork

"You're welcome," Arto said, grinning.

"I'm going to give this to her now!"

"Wait, isn't it bad luck if you see her—?"

But Finrod had already taken off in a run, eager to give his beloved Amarië her present.

◊◊◊

Orodreth was chewing his nails, staring off in the direction his uncle had gone. This couldn't be good.

"Orodreth! Orodreth!"

Túrin, Orodreth's best friend, came running up, his dark hair and clothes at odds with the light scenery around him. "Orodreth, there you are! Your father's looking for you! Wait," Túrin said, frowning, "where's Finrod?"

"I think—" Orodreth gulped, running his hands through his thin hair. "We may have a serious problem."

◊◊◊

Finrod ran through the meadows toward where he knew Amarië lived. Or, where she had lived—she'd be living with him now in his castle.

He squirmed. This was so exciting!

Coming to the top of a hill, Finrod looked down at the sprawling mansion that belonged to Amarië's family. If he squinted, he could see Amarië sitting in front of the pond in her front yard, chatting with another girl.

Finrod smiled and began to run down, clutching the corsage to his chest. He couldn't wait to see her face when she—

Wait a minute. Finrod slowed to a halt, staring at the scene before him.

Was Amarië…kissing that girl?

Finrod peered down at his fiancé.

Yes, there was no doubt about it. Amarië was kissing that girl. On the lips. Like a lover.

It was as if a sword had impaled Finrod straight through the heart. He actually staggered back, unable to stand upright.

What in the…how could she…but she said…they were…

They were supposed to be getting married today!

Tears filled Finrod's eyes, and he squeezed them shut. But… Amarië loved him! She'd said she loved him! She loved him! Didn't she?

The corsage in Finrod's fingers felt too light, too soft. He crumpled it in his hands and tossed it away.

Amarië had lied to him.

Wave after wave of sadness crashed into him.

She'd lied right to his face! Finrod turned away, opening his eyes once he could no longer see the horrifying scene.

Amarië had never loved him.

Finrod began to walk away.

This whole romance had been a lie.

Finrod couldn't hold back the sobs as he began to run somewhere, anywhere except here.

He needed to get as far as possible from the one who broke his heart.

◊◊◊

When she heard a familiar voice sobbing, Amarië pulled away from her lover and glanced up the hill—

_Shit._

Finrod was fleeing, his legs flying, wailing like the world was coming down around him.

_Fuck._

"I am definitely not getting my subjects," Amarië murmured, dejected.

◊◊◊

A knock came on the door.

Sniffling, Finrod pulled himself out of his bed and stumbled for the entrance to his bedroom, throwing the door open.

Arto stood there, along with his father Ango, Aiko, and Artanis. All of them looked incredibly concerned.

"Uncle?" Arto asked tentatively.

"Hey, guys," Finrod said, attempting a watery smile.

"What happened?" Aiko tried, sounding concerned.

What he had seen—

"I don't want to talk about it," Finrod mumbled, wiping his face.

"Not even to us?" Ango shook his head. "Ingo, tell us what happened."

"Just…" Finrod sighed and began to close the door. "Tell Father the wedding's off." "What?" Artanis gasped. "The wedding's off? Ingo!"

But Finrod had closed the door.

Turning around, Finrod walked to the window, staring absently through the glass.

How could he have been so stupid? The signs had all been there, right in front of his nose! And he had ignored them all!

Amarië had never brought him presents. She had never been interested in anything but the royal aspects of her new position. She had brushed off every single one of Finrod's attempts to show his power. She had continuously talked about having the whole kingdom at her beck and call.

Finrod rested his head against the window pane.

She had never loved him at all. He had been blinded by her beauty and charm and had almost tricked him into giving her power.

He had been a _fool._

Not anymore.

"I will never fall in love again," Finrod swore.

◊◊◊

From that day onward, Finrod changed.

He trained every day with his sword until he could beat all of the guards in a fight, and sometimes even his siblings. He studied hard until he knew almost everything one could know about ruling a kingdom. He attended court and made various improvements to King Arafinwë's domain.

He practiced his singing until he could bend metal, cause a stone to weep, charm animals, bewitch even the most stubborn elf.

And most importantly, he never fell in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Amarië is a cheat, because I needed someone to play Roland. She's also pansexual, as are most elves. Don't judge!
> 
> Arto, or Orodreth, is Dawn, because his anxiety is interchangable with her naïveté. And he's fun to write with. Túrin is Sunny—yes, he's a man, you'll find out why he's with the elves later.
> 
> Beren and Tuor are Fang and Stump, because Bëor needed some lackeys and I figured I could squeeze some comedic relief out of these two.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, introduction. Don't worry, I'll try to have the next chapter up in a day or two. You'll get to see pretty Finrod frolicking around in a field of flowers, where he deserves to be.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
